


Unfair

by theholyjuggernaut



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Burns, Episode: s04e05 Buck Begins, Fire, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Speculation, Trapped, Worried Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholyjuggernaut/pseuds/theholyjuggernaut
Summary: “Floor collapsed. Fell about ten feet.” Labored breathing, then a short, awful pause. “Vic isn’t breathing; starting compressions.”A cough. Then another. And another.Buck is dying.-4x05 Buck Begins speculation!
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 172
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Unfair by The Neighborhood. I am in LOVE with Evan Buckley just so y'all know. I have a feeling Buck Begins is gonna deliver a hot steaming plate of angst...and I'm so excited and nervous for it. So I wrote this little thing. Enjoy, and leave a comment if you liked it!

“He can’t be gone,” Eddie hears himself mutter from the distance. 

His vision is blurring rapidly–replaced by a fuzzy array of floating white lights. The tears clinging to his eyelashes overlay the scene before the 118: fire and flames and a ramshackle factory about to bury anyone miraculously still alive inside. It’s carnage, it’s chaos–it contends with the horrors of his service in Afghanistan. Depending which way this ends, these flames may replace the battlefield in Eddie’s nightmares. 

He can feel his mind shutting down his emotions; that’s what they tried to teach him, after all. To desensitize, to compartmentalize, to bottle up everything and never let it out. Eddie hates how he’s almost mastered it. But it’s all he has left, the only bastion protecting him from breaking down right here and now. The last time Eddie remembers feeling so helpless was after the tsunami hit; staring up at Buck’s distraught form, Christopher’s glasses hanging from his neck like a noose. And that’s when the awful reality sunk in–when a long, paralyzing shiver of grief shook his body to the core. 

_ I got the last victim, but I’m trapped! _

All Eddie can think about is Buck’s smile–his sweet, loving, blindingly white smile. Eddie wants to recall every time he’s seen Buck smile; it’s almost second nature to cling to the memories to prevent his mind from crumbling apart completely. 

“Floor collapsed. Fell about ten feet.” Labored breathing, then a short, awful pause. “Vic isn’t breathing; starting compressions.”

A cough. Then another. And another. 

Buck is dying. 

Eddie glances beside him as a ghost passes across Bobby’s face. He seems to have come to the same conclusion. That idiot gave away his mask. Hen and Chimney are tending to the other factory workers, but they operate with one ear to their radios at all times. They don’t look too great either. 

“You need to get out right now. That’s an order. You hear me, Buckley?” Bobby says, and it’s clear he’s trying very hard to keep his voice leveled. Eddie doesn’t trust his throat enough to shout into his radio now. They need to let Buck focus. God, please let him live. 

“...eiling’s gonna collapse, I’m try–” Buck gasps through his words as the radio crackles deafeningly. 

Eddie tries to memorize every sound, every sentence, because this is probably the last time they’re ever going to hear Buck’s voice. Chimney has passed his patients off to the other paramedics, approaching Eddie and Bobby in front of the smoking building. Hen does the same, rushing over with a desperate kick in her step. 

“Come on, Buck. Get outta there.” 

“Firefighter Buckley, come in!” 

Eddie remains silent, feet anchored to the ground. It is not strength or resolve. He’s paralyzed in place. Every instinct is telling Eddie to rush in there, save his best friend, but all he can do is stare out into the red, orange, black, and gray as Buck’s radio silence rips his soul apart from the inside. Eddie has seen men get picked off the battlefield like flies–he’s seen them suffer into unconsciousness right before his eyes too many damn times. But if he has to listen to Buck die, choking on smoke and fire...there will be no coming back. Eddie swipes a hand over his face, his voice snagging on the prongs of his anguish. 

“Oh, God…” he whispers. 

Suddenly, a scream echoes out through the massive billows of smoke. It takes Eddie a second to realize that it’s not from his radio, but a few hundred meters out by the factory’s employee exit. Or what’s left of it. Bobby doesn’t say anything–they all take off in synchronized instinct. That had to be Buck’s voice. Eddie doesn’t know what he’ll do if it wasn’t.

Buck and Christopher playing video games in his living room. Building gingerbread houses at Hen’s. Making up with Eddie in the firehouse. Buck is purely goodhearted, and there’s nothing ulterior beneath that goodness. He’s Buck, and with him comes a million beautiful things: compassion, kindness, gentleness, love. Nothing–no one–could ever compare. Buck has to live. If there is anything right with this world, Buck  _ must _ live. 

And suddenly there he is–curled up in a pile of debris and ash. Trembling, in pain, alone. Eddie, Bobby, Chimney, and Hen crowd around Buck, jumping into immediate action. There’s a large gash across his face, and a few nasty second degree burns spread across his neck. His ankle looks broken–how Buck managed to limp out through literal flames is something unimaginable. Eddie assesses him like the medic he was trained to be, forcing his emotions to take the back burner. A few other paramedics arrive with a gurney in hand, and they strap Buck in, while he whimpers deliriously. 

“We got you, Buck, we got you,” Bobby affirms, futilely wiping sweat off his face. Eddie doesn’t leave Buck’s side, and neither does anyone else. As expected. The lump of fear in his throat migrates down to the depths of his stomach, but Eddie can tell it’s far from gone. Buck won’t meet any of their eyes. There’s a sharp glare of defeat on his face, and Eddie remembers it well. 

“I lost him,” Buck groans, blinking profusely. He looks wrecked. “I lost him, Cap.” 

Their captain doesn’t say, “It’s okay.” Bobby knows that Buck won’t ever deem losing somebody in their line of work as “okay.” Eddie looks around him–at his team, his family–and knows that each and every one of them would take Buck’s place if they could. He wishes he could remove the sadness brimming tears in Buck’s eyes, the ache of shame and grief building up like a tumor inside him. 

“I know,” says Bobby firmly. “I know, Buck. Let’s get you treated.” 

Buck just turns his head away and says nothing. 


End file.
